


You Gotta Help Me (I'm Losing My Mind)

by trashmouthtrash



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Betty being the literal angel that she is, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Jughead Jones-centric, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Betty Cooper, The Author Regrets Everything, bughead - Freeform, staples, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthtrash/pseuds/trashmouthtrash
Summary: “I swear, if you hurt him…”“Bit late for that, isn’t it? I would hurry, Betty. His blood is already on your hands.”Or: The Black Hood goes after Jughead to hurt Betty.





	You Gotta Help Me (I'm Losing My Mind)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, barely edited, I own nothing but the plot.

//Thought we were going strong  
I thought we were holding on  
Aren't we?//

XXX

Light is just beginning to filter through the windows and someone is pounding on his door. Jughead sighs, running a hand through his mussed hair as he climbs out of bed.

The knocking persists. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

With his vision still blurry from sleep, he opens the door. 

There’s a gun shoved into his stomach before Jughead fully registers the fact that the man before him is the Black Hood.

XXX

Jughead hears the shot before he feels it.

It’s loud. It rings in his ears, echoing over and over, consuming his thoughts and overriding his pain receptors long enough for him to look down at the gaping hole in his abdomen.

Then he feels it.

It’s sharp, it’s agony, pulsing and persisting, and his breath catches at the sight of all that blood.

XXX

Jughead is ninety percent sure his stomach just exploded.

He gasps at the pain lancing through his middle. The man has closed the door; Jughead sinks to the ground. The Black Hood picks him up, settling him on the couch almost… gently, and Jughead shivers.

His head droops. Everything is heavy, and his vision is playing tricks on him. The room swirls and tilts; Jughead blinks thickly. 

Distantly, he brings a hand to his stomach, vaguely remembering something about needing to stop the blood flow. The Black Hood, though, takes his arms and wrenches them behind him, securing them with something sticky and strong. Jughead isn’t in much of a position to argue.

“Stay still. We still need to call Betty.”

Betty.

The name awakens something in him, although for the life of him he can’t fully remember why, but he knows that he loves Betty and Betty is important and Betty would get him out of there.

Betty.

Jughead slides his gaze over to the man; he is writing something on a slip of paper. The man - the Black Hood - finishes and comes closer, and Jughead flinches away. 

The man - what was his name again? - has the note in his hand and something else. He grabs Jughead’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “We’re going to leave Betty a little message, yeah? I warned her what would happen if she didn’t do what I asked.”

Betty.

“No, don’t…” Jughead’s voice is sluggish and slurred. The man tuts.

“We can’t have you making all this noise, though.” and then the man - the bad man - brings something to his lips and there is piercing pain, it stings, not as bad as his stomach, but bad. He does it again, and again, and Jughead moans, and the man does it again. 

He can’t breathe. Everything is happening too fast, too much, and everything hurts, his lips, his stomach, oh god his stomach, and the bad man was going to get Betty, too, and Jughead can’t breathe.

The man doesn’t seem to notice the way Jughead’s chest rises and falls a bit too quickly, or the look of pure terror in his glassy eyes. Perhaps he doesn’t care.

Jughead is scared out of his mind.

The blurry figure - bad man? - sticks the paper to Jughead’s forehead and there’s the stinging pain again - stapler? - and Jughead’s vision is now slightly covered by the note. Not that it matters much, anyway; he’s shaking and crying so much that he can barely make out the looming figure of his attacker. 

He hears something - the figure is talking, holding something up to his ear - a phone? - and then he says that word again.

Betty.

Jughead groans and twists but then his abdomen is on fire and his vision darkens.

Clinging to consciousness, he strains to hear the man saying, “... told you… what happens… didn’t do what i said… love…sins...”

Then he sticks his finger into the mess of blood that is Jughead’s stomach and Jughead screams, a muffled, inhuman sound, and nearly passes out.

Darkness creeps up on the edges of his vision, but Jughead won’t pass out, he can’t, not now. The adrenaline keeps him aware, as does the way the man slaps him upside the head.

“Don’t pass out now, Mr. Jones. Betty’s almost here.”

The figure retreats; Jughead hears him say something about “sins” and “you’ll all learn” and “Betty” before there’s the slam of a door and he closes his eyes.

XXX

Betty is getting dressed when the sound of that godforsaken ringtone causes her to flinch. Taking a deep breath, she answers with a blunt, “What do you want?”

“Hello Betty.”

Betty is tempted to hang up until she hears what sounds like a groan in the background.

“What did you do?”

“I told you what would happen if you didn’t do what I said. Now someone you love is hurt because of your sins.”

Then Betty hears the awful sound of a muffled scream and she just knows it's Jughead.

“I swear, if you hurt him…”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it? I would hurry, Betty. His blood is already on your hands.”

Betty is running.

She’s outside, and shit, her parents took both the cars, so she pounds on Archie’s door, screaming and knocking over and over.

“Betty? What the..”

“The Black Hood has Jughead. We need to go. Now.”

Then they’re in Archie’s car, racing toward the trailer park and praying to anyone who would listen.

XXX

Jughead is floating. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the room keeps spinning and twisting and he might have thrown up if it weren’t for the staples sealing his lips.

Everything hurts, so badly, and it takes everything he has to stay awake.

He sees a crimson liquid spilling from his stomach; that’s what hurts the most. He should put pressure, he thinks, but he’s frozen, and his hands are tied anyway.

Betty.

Betty will be here. Betty will find him and he’ll be okay.

But the darkness is coming, surrounding him and he thinks he might not make it that long.

Everything hurts.

Spinning. Floating. Darkness. No. Stop. Can’t.

Stay awake.

Betty.

XXX

Betty jumps out of the car before Archie has pulled to a stop. Time is moving like a scratched CD, skipping and freezing. She’s out of the car.

Skip.

She’s at the door.

Skip.

She pushes it open. 

Freeze.

“Jughead!”

XXX

There’s so much blood.

So much blood covering Jughead, thin rivers dripping from his lips and a waterfall from his stomach. So much blood, Betty thinks. Too much.

He’s barely conscious, sagged against the couch. His hands are tied behind him, and are those staples on his lips? He blinks heavily, his gaze landing on her, and when she looks back, she is startled by the pure terror in his eyes.

She’s never seen Jughead so afraid.

Betty is at his side (skip) and she raises a hand to touch him, but he flinches, and she freezes. He’s shaking and sobbing and god she doesn’t know how to handle this. 

“Archie, call 911. Now.”

She shrugs out of her sweater and pushes it against his stomach. He spasms, arching his back and more tears leak out; she mumbles an apology.

“It’s okay, Jug. I’m right here. The ambulance will be here soon. Try to stay still.” He doesn’t seem to fully see her, his gaze instead going through her, if that was possible. 

Archie comes forward with a knife and a towel from the kitchen; she switches the latter out for her sweater, now soaked red. Carefully, Archie cuts the duct tape around Jughead’s wrists. 

Jughead closes his eyes, beginning to fall limp, and Betty panics. “No, Jug, don’t fall asleep. Come on, stay with me a little longer.” She taps his face, and he slowly opens his eyes. He looks at her with those eyes, dark and pained. “That’s it.”

The note. She can’t ignore it any longer.

It’s stapled onto his forehead, specks of blood where the staple pierces his skin, and she hates to look. Gently, she brushes his messy hair to the side and rips the paper.

He doesn’t even wince. The staple is dangling, the points half in and half out.

“Do you want me to take it out?”

Jughead answers slowly, his normally quick-witted mind taking the better part of a minute to comprehend the question. He nods.

Betty takes a deep breath, glancing at Archie. He shrugs.

“I’ll try to be careful.” With one swift tug, she rips the staple from his skin. Blood trickles and he flinches, wincing, but it’s out.

She hears sirens.

Jughead lifts a hand to his mouth, gingerly brushing the metal abusing his lips. They’re thin; opening his mouth would get them out, but they would tear through his lips.

Win-win, he thinks dryly, before his eyes fall shut.

“No! Come on, Jug, they’re almost here. Please!”

He blinks and opens his lips slightly, slurring a muffled “Sorry.” Then his eyes fly open, panicked, and he starts coughing.

Coughing. With staples in his lips.

Blood dribbles from his lips, and he’s struggling to breathe, the staples and blood obstructing his airway, and he claws at the staples. He’s already pulled a few of them out when the paramedics come rushing in.

They surround him, and Betty and Archie are pushed back, and Betty sees Jughead’s hand dangling from the stretcher as they carry him out.

XXX

Time is, once again, a scratched CD.

Skip.

They’re in Archie’s car.

Skip.

They’re in the waiting room.

Skip.

Her friends are there, as are her and Archie’s parents. FP comes not long after.

(The poor man looks destroyed and so, so guilty.)

Skip.

The doctor calls, “Forsythe Pendleton Jones III?” and they stand. He explains that Jughead had surgery and that, although his injuries were extensive, he’d be okay and is asleep in the ICU if they want to see him.

(Of course they want to see him.)

Skip.

They’re at Jughead’s hospital room. FP goes in first; then, it’s her turn.

Freeze.

Betty had always heard that hospital beds make patients look small. Somehow, she didn’t think that would apply to Jughead; strong, determined Jughead, who could get through anything.

(Even this?)

He looks exhausted even in sleep. His lips are swollen and he’s so, so pale. Betty remembers the doctor mentioning something about him having had a blood transfusion. Jughead is dead to the world, and with all he’d been through, Betty can’t help thinking that’s a good thing.

XXX

Returning to consciousness is… slow. Slow, and painful.

He’s floating again, not quite awake but no longer asleep. Jughead tries to open his eyes, but they are too heavy. Trying to move his hand yields similar results - he barely twitches a finger. He nearly goes back to sleep before hearing,

“That’s it, Jug. I’m right here.”

Betty.

“Wake up for me, Juggie. Please.”

Jughead tries again. For Betty.

He opens his eyes, squinting. His vision is blurry; it takes him a moment to make out Betty’s smiling face. Jughead attempts a small smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Jughead’s voice is raspy; Betty gently lifts a straw to his lips. He sips greedily, and when Betty pulls the cup away, it’s with reluctance. 

“You’ve been out for a while. I was worried.” There’s a tenderness to her words that makes Jughead’s heart flutter. They fall into silence.

It takes him a minute to say it. “I was really scared, Betts.”

She looks at him, and there’s so much pain in her eyes as she responds, “I know.”

XXX

When he’s released, he stays with the Coopers for a few nights while FP fixes up the trailer. 

(can’t have him going home to a bloodstained couch.)

He sleeps in Polly’s room. Alice Cooper, for all her faults, is a mom, through and through. She takes care of him like he is one of her own, and Betty knows Jughead appreciates it.

(especially when he’d called his mom and she’d said she was too busy to come.)

The trip is stressful, despite Jughead being worryingly good at hiding his pain. By the time they get him in bed, a thin layer of sweat shines on his face. He’s slightly out of breath and winces whenever he moves, but he’s “fine.”

(he’s not.)

It’s around two in the morning when Betty wakes to the sound of a bang in the bathroom. 

She flies out of bed, just knowing it’s Jughead. She knocks softly. “Jug? Can I come in?”

He doesn’t respond, save for the sound of his heavy breathing. Stomach twisting with pity, Betty turns the knob.

Jughead is sitting against the bathtub, knees pulled to his chest, shaking. He’s crying and trying to hide it. Panic attack, she thinks.

“Oh, Juggie.”

Betty steps closer. They both ignore Jughead’s flinch. “Sorry… I… knocked…. knocked over… bottles… I…”

(so that’s what made the noise)

Betty wraps an arm around his trembling shoulders. “It’s fine, Jug. Breathe with me, in and out.”

They sit until his breathing sounds a bit better. He sighs. “Had a nightmare, sorry. You… you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Betty gives him a look. “You’re not something to deal with, Jug. I love you, and I want to be here for you. You went through something terrible, and I’m going to help you get through it. Besides, it’s my fault you got hurt in the first place.”

Jughead’s protesting before she finishes her sentence. “The Black Hood did this. Not you.”

“You heard what he said. He did this because I wouldn’t help him.”

“Betty, you made the right choice. You didn’t know what he would do. And I’m fine.” Glancing down at himself, he amended it with a slight, breathless chuckle. “I will be fine.”

“God, Jug. When I came in there… I thought you were dead. I was so scared I’d lost you.”

Jughead smiles honestly for the first time in days.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

XXX

It happens again the next night. And the next. And the next.

Neither are sleeping well, but Jughead has it considerably worse. He wakes up every night, sometimes multiple times, in a cold sweat. Once, the nausea gets so bad he throws up, tearing his stitches. When it’s time for him to go back to the trailer, Betty is worried, to say the least.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? You could stay longer, or I could…”

“Thank you, Betts, but really, I’ll be fine.”

XXX

At first, it seems like he’s right. He goes home, and they meet up the next day and all is well. He even goes back to school, eventually.

(Betty walked in with him, hand in hand.)

But it quickly becomes apparent that all is not well. Jughead’s eyebags, which had once been easily passed off as the result of a late night or two, become darker than the black coffee Jug is constantly sipping. He laughs it off, said he was simply busy, but Betty isn’t stupid.

The others notice, as well. Jughead is quieter than normal, more withdrawn and moody and sluggish in his movements. Jabs that would normally be countered with witty sarcasm are now ignored and shrugged off. 

Jughead is drowning, and Betty can’t find a lifesaver.

(she is the lifesaver)

XXX

Jughead isn’t trying to not sleep. At least, not at first. His nightmares get worse, to the point where he is waking up around six times a night.

To the point where he’d rather not sleep at all. 

He’s fine, really. Nobody needs to know.

(he’s wrong, and he knows it.)

XXX

“Jug?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not eating.”

“Not hungry.”

“Have you been sleeping okay?”

“Yep. Perfectly fine, Archibald. Perfectly fine.”

XXX

It’s lunch. Jughead hasn’t slept in three days.

He’s like a zombie. His gaze is vacant, his steps wobbly. Betty has to do something.

“Juggie?”

She shakes him, lightly tapping his face. He starts, flinching. Betty’s smile drops.

For a split second, he honestly looks terrified.

“Jughead?”

(The man harshly slaps him across the face.“Don’t pass out now, Mr. Jones. Betty’s almost here.”)

Jughead stands as if in a trance, lethargically grabbing his things. He begins to walk away, despite Betty’s protests. Just as she gets up to follow him, he passes out.

“Jughead!”

XXX

“You gotta stop doing this, Jug.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine! You passed out from exhaustion, you don’t talk to anybody, you barely eat… Let me in, Jug. Let me help you.”

She sees it in the way his shoulders droop and his eyes fill with tears. Jughead breaks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Jug. Just let me be there for you.” He nods, still avoiding her gaze. 

Betty doesn’t want to say it. “Juggie… you can say no, but… you haven’t talked about it at all. Do you think maybe it would help, if you tell me what happened?”

“You saw what happened, I got shot, and -”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

Jughead sighs. “Yeah, maybe,” he mumbles.

Betty grabs his hand.

XXX

They’re both crying by the time he finishes. Betty climbs onto the hospital bed, settling in beside him. She lays with him until, finally, impossibly, he falls asleep. 

It’s the best sleep he’s gotten in weeks.

XXX

They decide that Jughead will stay with the Coopers for a while. As Alice Cooper so eloquently puts it, “Being in that dirty trailer can’t be helping him heal.”

So Polly’s room becomes Jughead’s room, and evenings become movie nights, and nightmares become… less frequent.

XXX

She still has the note.

(“This is your fault, Betty Cooper. You’re just like me.”)

((The note is stained with Jughead’s blood. Betty can scrub for hours, but it doesn’t come off her hands.))

(((Betty cries herself to sleep one night, and Jughead is there with his arms around her before she can lie and say “I’m fine.”)))

XXX

//You and me got a whole lot of history  
So don't let it go, we can make some more, we can live forever//

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? questions? concerns? come scream at me in the comments... I also take prompts!


End file.
